Published on May 24, 2005
Ben Folds is all growed up.
That’s one way to interpret the latest, noticeably more mature
offering from the modern master of piano-based rock. Another might
be less charitable. Let’s face it — at a certain point after
several albums’ worth of sustained high quality, audience fear
begins to set in. The drop-off is inevitable, goes the theory, so
the question with each new outing becomes, is it here?
Hold that thought.
Let’s stipulate right up front that
Songs For Silverman is demonstrably less aggressive in its
approach than past Folds outings, putting a premium on melody and
thoughtfulness over Folds’ earlier tendencies toward
hey-ma-look-at-me barrelhouse piano playing and the occasional
potty-mouthed rant. But while the songwriting seems to have grown
up a bit, the instrumentation remains classic Folds, built around
the piano-bass-drums trio format he used so successfully with the
Ben Folds Five, this time with Jared Reynolds (bass &
background vocals) and Lindsay Jamieson (drums & background
vocals) providing expert backing.
The opening “Bastard” represents everything that’s great about
Ben Folds, from its rippling melody line and foot-tapping rhythm to
its ingenious arrangement (who needs a guitar solo when you can
stick a Brian Wilson fantasia of stacked harmonies in its place?).
Not to mention a lyric that combines tart wit with a bruising yet
compassionate wisdom in inimitable Folds fashion:
“You get smaller as the world gets big The more you know, you
know you don’t know shit ‘The Whiz Man’ will never fit you like
‘The Whiz Kid’ did So why you gotta act like you know when you
don’t know? It’s okay if you don’t know everything.”
When he’s not laying life lessons on you, Folds is perhaps best
at dissecting dysfunctional relationships. “You To Thank” is a
musical romp through a doomed pairing, full of sardonic verbal
bullseyes from the pen of one of the keenest observers of human
behavior on the scene. Still, it’s just a warm-up for the truly
magnificent “I’ve Landed,” which offers a brilliant coda to the
soul-sucking nightmare of a relationship that the narrator has just
exited from to return home, its rippling melody line mirroring both
a scattering of notes from and the hard-earned wisdom of James
Taylor’s timeless “Fire & Rain.” (Favorite lyric: “She liked to
push me / And talk me back down / Until I believed I was the crazy
one / And in a way I guess I was…”)
Speaking of wisdom, Folds gently eviscerates the hollow piety
and casual hypocrisies of the Bible Belt in “Jesusland,” imagining
the title character wandering the streets of middle America in
despair, watching as “They drop your name / But no one knows your
face / Billboards quoting things you never said / You hang your
head and pray / For Jesusland.” Take that, Pat Robertson.
As always, Folds balances his harsher judgments with a streak of
deeply appealing sincerity. “Gracie” could have been a saccharin
disaster, a cloying “my daughter’s cute so I’d better write her a
song” throwaway. Instead, thanks to its unadorned simplicity and
Folds’ patented deadpan delivery of an emotionally-charged lyric,
“Gracie” is one of this disc’s musical triumphs. It is simply one
of the most timeless, genuine, unsentimentally affectionate songs
ever written by a parent about the way a child crawls inside your
soul and makes herself at home.
Even the lesser songs here have things to offer. “Trusted” nails
the most basic relationship axiom of all: “If you can’t trust / You
can’t be trusted.” “Late” offers another sweet yet unsentimental
tribute, this time to departed Folds contemporary Elliott Smith.
And “Give Judy My Notice” finds Folds’ acid wit at its apex,
decorating a lush, harmony-rich arrangement with this classic
kiss-off line: “But Judy / I won’t be your bitch anymore…”
Like the violin and cello on “Jesusland,” the steel guitar Folds
embellishes “Judy” with adds great depth and warmth to the
arrangement.
A final highlight rolls along as the closer “Prison Food” does a
slow build over Folds’ lyrical piano work and his new trio’s
terrific harmonies into a middle instrumental section that launches
and soars on the fuel of Reynolds’ fuzz-bass, Jamieson’s crashing
fills and repeat guest Buddy Baxter’s steel guitar accents. Simply
beautiful stuff.
(Note to Folds fans: The deluxe edition of this album is one of
the best packages I’ve ever spent the extra cash on — a gorgeous
flip-book of terrific photos, plus a separate DVD disc that
contains one of the most consistently entertaining and insightful
“making of” documentaries I’ve ever seen, plus a bonus disc of
choice live cuts and rarities.)
It must be said that if you’re picking up
Songs For Silverman looking for a sequel to “One Angry
Dwarf” or “Army” or even “Rockin’ The Suburbs,” you’re not going to
find it. The sharp-tongued humor is there, but Folds has matured
with his audience, channeling his inner wiseguy into a kind of
curmudgeonly wisdom that’s both amusing and often devastatingly
on-target.
Oh, and as for that quote-unquote inevitable drop-off in
quality? Still waiting for it.